


He looks so sad

by neki31415



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, John is a Bit Not Good, Molly Hooper is a Good Friend, Molly sees Sherlock, Oblivious John Watson, POV Molly Hooper, Pining Sherlock Holmes, Sad, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock is a Mess, Unrequited Love, watson wedding, “You look sad when you think he’s not looking”
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:21:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28911504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neki31415/pseuds/neki31415
Summary: While at John’s reception, Molly watches Sherlock and remembers times long passed.
Kudos: 12





	He looks so sad

Molly had known Sherlock for many years. She was there those days in university, when Sherlock’s ethereal beauty and incredible intellect brought only jealous sneers and hatred. She was there those days when Sherlock hid in the janitor’s closet, his head down and his knees up, creating a tiny ball of his own body. She was there when the crook in his elbow became littered with more and more bruises and his eyes became sunken in. 

Molly had felt so many emotions for the poor soul that was Sherlock Holmes. The little boy, 2 years younger than any of his peers, who didn’t quite know yet that everything he would say would only cause him pain. She’d felt pity, sorrow, care, love, and so much more. She’d fallen in love with the man that he became, when he finally realised that nobody would like him so why even bother trying. She’d fallen in love with the confidence of a genius who had nothing to lose. But she also hated the man Sherlock had become. His emotions became so completely buried that nobody could get through to them. And he began to call himself a high functioning sociopath, though she knew all too well he was no such thing.

She remembered, oh so vividly, the first time she saw him show any kind of real emotion. He was very good at hiding it then, at least away from a bunch of university people who didn’t know what emotions looked like. Looking back, he wasn’t good at all. Nothing like he was when the reality of his life sunk in. She remembered that day, walking down the halls, willing herself to be invisible. She remembered opening the wrong door to the wrong classroom, or rather it was a door that didn’t lead to a classroom at all. She remembered seeing the boy, so tall and thin and beautiful, the boy from her sciences class and her anatomy courses, with his eyes wide and red rimmed. He quickly ducked his head back in between his knees and his arms clutched at the dark hairs at the nape of his neck. A defensive position, as if he expected her to beat him up too. His hands were bloodied and his face bruised. It would be the first in a string of occasions where Molly would find him in the janitor’s closet like that, where she would stand there and never say a word. And she would close the door and walk away not long afterwards, never giving herself the satisfaction of finally helping him.

She remembered that now. As Sherlock stands up on the stage, violin on his shoulder, bow gliding across the strings. A stand with sheet music in front of him, but he doesn’t look at it. Instead, his eyes follow the two dancing figures waltzing back and forth across the dance floor. 

Things changed in Sherlock during university, for the worse or better she couldn’t say. But not nearly as big a change as John Watson had been. When John Watson came along, it was like Sherlock had finally been given some reason to breathe. He had lived for solving murders and doing drugs, but with John Watson, he had someone to be with, somebody to care for him. Molly had felt jealous at first, because she hadn’t been able to be that someone, but she learned quickly that she never would be able to and it was unfair to ask Sherlock to change his sexuality for her. 

Now, however, after all this time and all the things they’ve done together and for each other, Molly was watching as John Watson danced on the dance floor at his wedding while Sherlock Holmes watched from the stage, playing the song. And all she could think of were those days that she walked in on the poor little boy, 2 years younger than her and so alone, crying on the floor in the janitor’s closet. This was the same. Sherlock standing there all alone, face solemn and emotionless but eyes doing a very poor job of hiding his true feelings. Sherlock Holmes was breaking inside, and Molly was watching it happen and doing absolutely nothing.

She watched on throughout the entire waltz, looking between the smiling and laughing faces of Mr and Mrs Watson and Sherlock Holmes. Looking between happiness and deep despair. She wished deeply that Sherlock had told John how he felt, but she knew that John wouldn’t have taken it so easily. John was very protective of his heterosexuality, and a confession on Sherlock’s part would have only ended in awkwardness followed by loss. But here Sherlock was regardless, the loss of the one person who could ever really handle him right there. Molly could tell he was mourning the loss deep into his core.

The music Sherlock played did little to hide his inner turmoil also. It was emotional, filling the room with light and then thrusting it into the deep pits of woe. She could hear every feeling he was feeling, the battle raging in his head, whether to be happy for his best friend or to be jealous and depressed and angry. It was all there, but looking at husband and wife in the middle of the room, it was obvious they weren't listening. They weren’t paying attention to the tribute their friend was making to them.

And then Sherlock spoke, emotion lacking in his voice, but every word he said told a different story. A story of a man deeply in love with someone who was marrying somebody else. And all he could do to show his love now was this vow to keep his beloved and his new wife alive and happy. And his smile was painted on so perfectly, so filled with happiness that didn’t really exist but care and love that really did.

When it was over and the music started to play through the loudspeakers and bodies started to swarm about, Sherlock immediately went to the newlyweds. His smile was big and proud and believable. He was a good actor after all. Never could a man hide their emotions so thoroughly. But as they spoke, Molly saw the little crack. Mr and Mrs Watson laughed, some sort of joke Sherlock had said it seemed, and Sherlock looked at John and there it was. His eyes turned so very sad, so very lonely, in an instant. Molly never, never wanted to see that look in those eyes ever again.

When they parted, Molly was dancing with Tom, but her eyes continued to wander towards the group in the middle of the dance floor. The newlyweds left to go dance together, and Sherlock was left alone. He stood there for a bit, face blank, looking around as though looking for a reason to stay. But that reason never came, it seemed, and his head turned down. Molly’s mind immediately supplied the boy who scrunched himself up into a little ball and hid his head between his legs. 

She watched with a frown as Sherlock, once again, realised that he was completely alone in the world and had no reason to stay. He walked out the door as Molly watched, pretending to dance with Tom as her eyes followed his back. And then Sherlock was gone. And Molly stopped, wishing, not for the first time, that she had gone and comforted the poor man. 


End file.
